


Clueless

by Elleh



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Aged-Up Character(s), Friends to Lovers, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 16:36:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13594086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elleh/pseuds/Elleh
Summary: If anyone had asked Issei how he’d thought his night would end, he’d have never said:catching my best friend moaning my name while fucking himself.There’s an odd second, between Issei entering their room and sliding the door of the bedroom open, in which Issei is still oblivious. Skin prickling, a sudden dryness in his mouth, but oblivious. He’s taking his shoes off when the first moan catches him.He stills right on the spot, a shoe hanging from his finger, the other hand half-way to opening the bedroom. Issei swallows, images of Hanamaki with a girl from the hotel, that’s why he didn’t want to come with us drink, the bitter taste that realisation leaves behind. Issei shouldn’t care Hanamaki’s having sex with someone, but the sourness turns into rage—and maybe disappointment. He’s gonna have a serious conversation about boundaries and, you know, could you let me know in advance, so I find—“Issei… Mmmh, fuck.”





	Clueless

**Author's Note:**

> this comes from a super nice [prompt](https://negare-boshi.tumblr.com/post/169959938011/matsuhana-promt-maybe-some-voyeurism-and-ofc-smut) i got sent in the blog. i love matsuhana and this world deserves more matsuhana.

If anyone had asked Issei how he’d thought his night would end, he’d have never said: _catching my best friend moaning my name while fucking himself_.

There’s an odd second, between Issei entering their room and sliding the door of the bedroom open, in which Issei is still oblivious. Skin prickling, a sudden dryness in his mouth, but oblivious. He’s taking his shoes off when the first moan catches him.

He stills right on the spot, a shoe hanging from his finger, the other hand half-way to opening the bedroom. Issei swallows, images of Hanamaki with a girl from the hotel, _that’s why he didn’t want to come drink with us_ , the bitter taste that realisation leaves behind. Issei shouldn’t care Hanamaki’s having sex with someone, but the sourness turns into rage—and maybe disappointment. He’s gonna have a serious conversation about _boundaries_ and, you know, could you let me know in advance, so I find—

“ _Issei… Mmmh, fuck._ ”

The second following that loud moan is even odder. Issei feels ticklish and oversensitive, a loud thrumming in his ears keeping him from hearing Hanamaki’s next words. He’s glued to the floor, his heart beating out of pace in every nerve of his body. There’s no way he’ll get in now, he shouldn’t, he probably heard wrong—

Issei slides a creak open, just enough to let his gaze roam the dark room, before he can tell himself to leave and run the warmth off. A single glance, and any and every wish to step out the room evaporates.

Hanamaki is indeed alone. His legs are spread wide, laying on his futon. Feet on the floor, pants off somewhere on the corner, he’s jerking himself off with such abandon Issei’s breath catches. He recalls their discussion earlier, about setting the futons facing the door instead of sideways, of Hanamaki’s jokes about _murderers_ and _youkais_. Issei feels like a voyeur, a dirty, horny fucker who can’t give a single damn about staring at his best friend making a mess of himself while calling Issei’s name.

“ _Issei, Issei, Issei_.” Hanamaki’s hips jump up in sync with his moans and Issei’s belly floods with warmth. Hanamaki turns his head to the side and buries his cries on a pillow,— _Issei’s_ pillow—, and his hand fastens its speed, and Hanamaki’s legs open more, and Issei is suspended in those wicked hours of the night in which you can’t discern what’s real and what’s a dream.

Dazed, Issei stares and stares. He thinks, _he’ll come soon; I’ve heard him do it before, he doesn’t last long_. Yeah, Issei reminds himself, this isn’t such a novelty, Hanamaki masturbating so near him.

The name-calling is, though. That’s what has Issei so entranced, so fascinated, so warm and fidgety. He can barely make out the shape of Hanamaki’s cock, the wet head catching light once in a while, the shaft shadowed by Hanamaki’s hand, by the arch of his back and his hips. He’s about to come, Issei knows it, but right when he holds his breath, waiting for the end with impatient expectation, Hanamaki groans and stops.

Issei doesn’t growl, but he has to bite his tongue to stop himself from doing so. He’s holding the door with such strength he can’t feel his fingers anymore. Issei will tell himself tomorrow this was just a crazy moment due to alcohol and sleep-deprivation, although he hasn’t drank anything tonight, although he has slept more in this trip than he has in weeks.

Hanamaki’s pants fill the room, hand still sheathing his hard cock. Issei watches him open his eyes enough to spot the small bottle at his side and wet his palms and fingers. He does this while his lower lip is pinned between his teeth, blurry concentration as he spreads the lube before—

Issei does make a strangled sound now, but Hanamaki’s gasp is so loud it covers it. “ _Issei, Issei, fuck me, fuck me,_ ” Hanamaki pleads while two of his fingers get deeply buried in his ass, while his other hand closes around his cock and pumps slowly up and down.

He’s making it last. Hanamaki wasn’t just horny and needed a fast way to clear his mind, he’s doing this to enjoy the fantasy, to make his body ache, to come so hard he will probably forget his name for a long, blessed second. Issei can’t tear his eyes away, he can’t help himself when he wets his lips, when he pushes against the door’s corner and the pressure on his hard cock sends shivers up his back.

Hanamaki is loud and vocal. Issei has always been weak to lewd sounds, —shit, he’s pretty sure he once came with only dirty talk—, and there’s a yearning, a want, that has been building in the back of his neck for as long as he’s known Hanamaki. Issei recalls some jerk off sessions after listening to Hanamaki work himself, but shit, he has never made it _this_ big show of fuck and fantasy.

And gods, doesn’t he regret it. Hanamaki has enough control to know when his orgasm is about to roll over, and he slows his speed, or he takes one finger out, or he shifts positions. Issei bites his hand when Hanamaki takes his hand off himself and turns, getting on his four, ass pointing at the door.

It’s almost as if Hanamaki wants to get caught, but Issei knows better. He’s almost two hours earlier than he'd told Hanamaki he’ll be back.

It’s deliberately slow, now, when Hanamaki puts his fingers in. Issei sees the curve of his back, his ass wide open, his face always buried in Issei’s pillow, in Issei’s scent. It muffles Hanamaki’s sounds, but not enough. He whines, _ah, ah, ah, fuck, ah, mmmh, fuck_ , and Issei grinds his cock on the door, and Hanamaki yells, _fuck, shit, Issei, I wish, I wish, fuck, I want you here, fuck me, fuck me, Issei,_ and Issei grunts and grinds his hips even harder and his hand tightens on the door and then—

The door hits the wall and Issei can’t give a single fuck. Hanamaki stops, stills, his fingers inside but not moving. Issei is breathing harshly and his cock is wet and against his pants. His eyes can’t move from Hanamaki’s wide, frightened eyes, from the spot where his fingers disappear.

“Matsun? Oh, shit, what the—”

Hanamaki turns, hands off himself, pale all of the sudden. His cock is still hard against his shirt, but his wet hands hold each other against his chest, right above his heart.

“How long have you—”

“Lay down,” Issei orders, hoarsely. Hanamaki’s eyes widen.

“What.”

“Lay. Down.”

“Matsun.”

Issei has no control over his body when he falls on his knees, straddling Hanamaki’s naked legs. His cock brushes against Hanamaki’s shin, and a healthy blush covers Hanamaki’s cheeks. Issei doesn’t say anything when he takes his own shirt off and glares at Hanamaki.

“Matsun…”

“If you don’t do as I say,” Issei’s words are slow and calm, but he feels everything but, “I’ll put you in your four. Just like you were a second ago.”

Something flickers in Hanamaki’s eyes. A plea, a mix of _make me come_ , _don’t make this be a dream_ , _fuck me to oblivion and never mention it_.

Issei opens his pants in answer. Hanamaki’s breath catches, and his eyes fall on Issei’s crotch. The way his lips open, expectantly, is as alluring as it is tempting. Issei has to stand to take them off, and Hanamaki’s eyes follow his every move. He even whimpers when Issei’s cock bounces free.

“Oh, shit.”

“Lay down.”

Hanamaki shakes his head. His eyes never dart away from Issei’s cock. “Let me—”

Issei pushes him by the shoulders when Hanamaki tries to reach for his cock. Straddling him again, Issei pins him on the floor, and rubs his cock against his covered chest. Hanamaki moans loudly.

“I’m about to come,” he explains in a rush, crawling down Hanamaki’s body, opening his legs. “Weren’t you the one asking me to fuck you?”

Shame is too heavy for Hanamaki, no matter how aroused he is. He covers his face with his hands, dirtying his skin with lube and precum. “Dammit,” he musters, and groans when Issei’s hands roam up his thighs, spreading his ass wider.

“How long?”

“Shit, Matsun.”

“Issei.”

Hanamaki stops breathing for a second at the order. “Issei,” he repeats, and it’s small and hot and charged. Issei grinds his cock against Hanamaki’s entrance in reward, making them both start. “ _Oh, fuck, Issei_.”

“I want to fuck you. Shit, I want—”

“Yes, _yes, yes, yes, just do it_.”

“I don’t have—”

“I don’t care!” Hanamaki yells, legs surrounding Issei’s hips, arms caging his shoulders. Issei’s cock rubs against Hanamaki again, and they both moan in sync. “Please, please, please.”

“I’m not—” Issei wants him, and his cock wants him, and Hanamaki wants him, but it feels too rushed, it feels too dreamy. Issei grunts against Hanamaki’s neck, and lets his cock tease between Hanamaki’s asscheeks for a bit longer.

“Next time,” he promises in a whisper, and before Hanamaki can ask _what_ , Issei puts his fingers in Hanamaki’s ass and presses in.

Issei adjusts his position, so he has a better access, so his cock is now against Hanamaki’s. Hanamaki squirms under him when Issei pushes his fingers deeper, and arches his back when Issei bends them.

“ _Oh fuck, oh shit, Issei, Issei_.”

It’s hard to find the right pace, but Issei is determined to make it worth it. He adds a third finger and meanwhile his hips swirl and grind and curve, sliding his cock against Hanamaki’s over and over again. The feeling of Hanamaki’s legs around him is an embrace, his arms on his back the best of locks. Issei pants down at him, their lips so close, their foreheads touching. Issei drinks every moan, every plea, every cry, and he watches with feverish attention the way Hanamaki’s neck arches back, the way his mouth opens in a silent cry, brows furrowed in painful pleasure. Issei thrusts his fingers again, in the exact same angle he’s just done, and the same expression covers Hanamaki’s face. Eyes white from unthinkable pleasure, ass taut around Issei’s fingers, he mouthes _Issei, Issei, Issei_ , and Issei complies.

There’s no thought in his mind when Issei feels it, the orgasm clawing down on Hanamaki. He untangles himself from him, fingers thrusting harder and faster, and before Hanamaki can sense what he’s doing, Issei bends over and puts his cock in his mouth. Hanamaki cries, and whimpers, and tries to breathe in but can’t. He’s shuddering and his hips are bucking up Issei’s mouth, down Issei’s fingers.

Issei has never done this, but a single flicker of his tongue, a clumsy hollow of his cheeks, his fingers hammering Hanamaki’s ass in the right place again and again, and it’s done.

Hanamaki comes undone under his touch, in his mouth, around his hand. It’s amazing, although Issei won’t lie and say the taste in his mouth is anything but disgusting. The hot presence of Hanamaki’s cock and Hanamaki’s spunk in his throat isn’t pleasant, but fuck if he doesn’t feel the king of the world right now.

“Issei,” Hanamaki says breathlessly, watching him with wonder and lust and want. Issei washes over his mouth with the back of his hand, shifting his position, sitting over Hanamaki’s leg while his other hand closes around his cock. He doesn’t take his eyes away from the mess that is Hanamaki Takahiro after been fucked senseless, his hand fisting himself fast and harsh.

Hanamaki pants, eyes fixed on Issei’s cock. Issei grunts, a raw sound deep in his throat. He’s not as vocal as Hanamaki is, but one second before coming, he groans and leans forward, pointing at Hanamaki’s chest and his hand works himself dried, dirting Hanamaki’s chest with both their cums.

Issei falls on his side, breathing heavily. Eyes closed, he lets time tick until his breathing evens, and his burning skin cools enough to make him shiver.

Hanamaki’s watching him, when Issei opens his eyes. There’s that clouded fear he knows so well, hundreds of questions; hope.

“How fucking long have you been mastrubating while calling my name?”

There’s a twitch on Hanamaki’s lips at the furious question. “Years. Didn’t start with the fingers till a year ago, though.”

Issei’s stomach clenches at the memory of Hanamaki, on his four, ravishing himself. Shit.

“You’re fucking loud.”

“I know,” Hanamaki slides closer, until they are nose to nose. “You’re such a slut for loud.”

Issei grunts, but doesn’t deny it. “We are buying condoms tomorrow.”

Although Hanamaki rolls his eyes, Issei doesn’t miss the beat of uncertainty gleaming in them. “You could have fucked me without them.”

“And we are going on a date next friday,” Issei continues as if Hanamaki hasn’t said a thing.

At that Hanamaki’s eyes open, a genuine surprise Issei despises. He leans forward, harsher than he intends, and kisses Hanamaki’s pressed lips. “You were really thinking I’d just fuck you and then let things roll about?”

“I mean— I don’t need a date…”

“Well, I don’t _need_ a date, either,” Issei shakes his head at Hanamaki’s frown. “But I _want_ it.”

Hanamaki shrugs and tears his gaze away, but Issei grabs his chin, forcing his eyes back at him. There’s pain in them, and is difficult for Issei not to sigh in exasperation.

“You’re being difficult.”

“I’m not the one who wants a date just so he can have sex.”

“No. You’re the one who goes fucking himself yelling names.”

“I don’t need a date. This was—”

Hanamaki grunts when Issei presses himself on him. Their chests are glued, their crotches grinding, their mouths so close Issei feels the warm breezes of breath caress his skin.

“Why are you so thick? I want dates. And I want sex. And I want you. Did you seriously think I get this hard for all of my friends? Since you seem unable to step out of your shit, I’ll let you know: I’m not.”

Hanamaki lets out a shaky breath, his hands softly pressing on Issei’s sides. They stare at each other for a long moment, hearing their hearts match their rhythms. Hanamaki must see the truth of Issei’s words, for after a while he smiles, that wicked, cocked smile of his, and he says, “Get off, you’re heavier than a bull.”

“Whatever.”

But Hanamaki doesn’t let him go much farther. He grabs the pillows and pushes them under their heads, and with a single movement of his wrist, covers them both with the same blanket. The heat from their tangled bodies is sweet and soft, private and precious. Issei is drifting off, when Hanamaki whispers against his shoulder, “If you are late when you pick me up on friday, I’ll murder you.”

Issei falls asleep with a smile on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> gosh, i love them. also, their first date is awkward and it goes awfully bad and i might write about it because they are perfect.
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> [tumblr](https://negare-boshi.tumblr.com)


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